


In Favor of the Fallen Stars

by Revenna



Category: Borderlands, TFTBL - Fandom, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Other, Swearing, aaaaaaaanngssssst, also angst, just a whee bit, same w yvette, vaughns not rly there hes just talked about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:03:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4515957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revenna/pseuds/Revenna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Post-entire main story. Not a prediction, but painful to think about.)</p>
<p>A company party is thrown to celebrate the return of the wonderful, all powerful Handsome Jack. Rhys is given all kinds of reparations for bringing him back(kind of), but at what cost?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Favor of the Fallen Stars

The music thrummed through the hall, sloppily trying to keep beat with obnoxious lights that flickered in multicolor patterns over a crowd of dancing people. Rhys sat idly on a bar stool next to a long buffet of various snacks and drinks, twirling a grossly Hyperion green drink in a cheap plastic cup. It had only been a week since Vaughn died, he'd been told by Yvette, who was, unsurprisingly, avoiding him.

  
He didn't remember much, having been knocked out upon rescue to "preserve mental state"- only the scene that kept running through his head, like a broken record.

A single bullet had been fired by Vallory. Just one, meant to shoot straight into Rhys's chest. It could have missed. There were a million different directions that god damn bullet could have gone in. Instead, it shot straight, finding its way into a very different place than it was planned.

 Neither he nor Vallory expected Vaughn to jump in front of him. Neither thought sacrifice was a viable way to die. Not for Vaughn. He seemed to important, too crucial, too much of a constant to go out for the sake of Rhys.

  
Suppressing a sob, Rhys went bottoms up on the gross green punch he'd already identified as alcoholic, and stood up to refill his drink when suddenly, the music cut out to be replaced by obnoxious fireworks and the uproar of the audience.

"The king is back!" announced a cocky voice that was way too familiar.

  
Right. The return of the almighty Handsome Jack.

Sure enough, there was the man of the hour, waving on the gleeful shrieking from the audience. When it died down by his command, he immediately started chattering about how great it was to be back and all that bullshit with the signature overlord-type flare that could only be his.  
Rhys scowled. Jack had, of course shown no sympathy for Vaughn. Not that Vaughn had ever been his favorite person, but he had been a complete douche about his death. Jack, of all people, should know how that felt.

Rhys hadn't really been listening well enough to know why, but suddenly, the spotlight swung to him, and he blinked dumbly into it.

"Speakin' of which, Rhys, you're not ever getting promoted to head of transportation. That was the worst time I've had getting anywhere."

Rhys bobbed his head and raised his glass, trying to pull off an enchanted smirk, which almost definitely looked like a scowl. Luckily, it seemed like he looked drunk enough to pull that off, and the light returned to Jack, who just kept on talking. It was only a few more minutes, fortunately, before the music came back on after a kiss-ass applause from the audience, and Rhys dumped another ladle full of alcohol into his cup. He took another swift drink, then turned to go back to his seat when he was suddenly confronted with the sharp face of Jack.

"Ah-!" Rhys exclaimed lamely, and stepped back, swaying a bit on his feet.

"Hey, kiddo."

"Hey."

"Why don't you come with me?"

"I don't wanna," Rhys slurred.

"Let me rephrase that so it doesn't sound like a question- lets go, dickcheese," Jack commanded, grabbing him by the wrists and dragging him into the crowd. Too drunk to argue and too tired to care, he obliged, stumbling after him until they stood in the middle of the throng, at which point Rhys was pulled into what was basically a hug.

This was confusing. Jack wasn't capable of handing out hugs, and yet, here Rhys limply stood, wrapped up in his arms.

"What?" Rhys asked blankly, receiving a smack on the back of the head for it.

"Shaddup," came the reply muttered into his ear. Agreeing mentally, he returned the hug, glad to just have a moment of sympathy, from anyone- especially including Handsome Jack.  
In the darkness, it was hard to make out faces, but Jack had his buried nonetheless, in Rhys's shoulder. He tried not to cry. They stayed in that state until Jack finally broke off, and vanished into the crowd, leaving Rhys swaying drunkenly and staring at the floor, forcing back tears with a bittersweet frown on his face.

The music went on, but he barely noticed the bass over the beating in his chest that he could have sworn hadn't been there for a long time.

(?)He won't forget that.


End file.
